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  A COWBOY UNDER THE MISTLETOE

  A CHRISTMAS GROOM by Stacey Coverstone

  Having fought nearly three years for the Confederacy, Captain Tom McCann returns to Arizona Territory just in time for Christmas with plans to marry his sweetheart and buy a ranch. More than one surprise awaits him, however…including the news that Mariah is to be wed on Christmas Day. Shock at Mariah’s decision grips him, but he gradually realizes that everyone believed him to have been killed in the war.

  Heartsick at the promise she’s made to another, Mariah feels honor-bound to go through with her wedding. But Tom’s waited too long to get back to his one true love and his dream of owning his own spread to give up without a fight. Now, the entire town waits to see who will be A CHRISTMAS GROOM…

  WIDELOOPING A CHRISTMAS COWBOY by Livia J. Washburn

  When Clay Terrell rescues Jessamine Barlow from a Comanche raiding party, he has no idea how much trouble he’s letting himself in for—because once the beautiful blonde dons range duds and buckles on a gunbelt, she’s also known as Jess Barlow, leader of a fierce outlaw clan. Clay may have to choose between defending his range or protecting the family of the woman who has stolen his heart. Jess knows Clay will be better off without her and figures the best way to repay him is to make sure he doesn’t have a chance to fall for her. But when they wind up under the mistletoe on Christmas Eve, what comes next may make it impossible for the two of them to ever be apart!

  ANOTHER AULD LANG SYNE by Donna Alice Patton

  It's Christmas Eve, and Hudson Meade is hurrying home to his family. A brief stop in Stockton to escape the biting cold for a few moments leads him to an unexpected meeting with an old flame he’d thought never to see again. Will seeing Aurelia again and the memories of another long-ago Christmas Eve leave him with regrets about what might have been? One last parting kiss under the mistletoe results in yet ANOTHER AULD LANG SYNE…and his eager desire to be in the arms of the one he truly loves beyond all reason…

  SILVER AND GOLD by Kaye Spencer

  Bad luck and wrong turns make up the greater part of ex-con Joe Halden’s past. When he learns he has a five-year-old son Joe knows he can do something right by giving the boy a decent home. But the only way he can save him is to employ the trade that landed him in prison—explosives expert. Sydney Allard’s heart is hardened against the townspeople she blames for her husband’s death. When a fire destroys the town near Christmas, Sydney wants to continue harboring her hatred, but her conscience won’t let her.

  Two strangers share a journey of self-discovery. In this season of SILVER AND GOLD, the hurts of the past can lead to love if they open their hearts and give their trust to each other.

  THE PERFECT CHRISTMAS GIFT by Gail L. Jenner

  Katherine Jessup has come west with her dashing, perfect husband—but she is devastated when he leaves her to seek his fortune. R.J. Crawford has traveled west to escape his own past. After rescuing Katherine Jessup from a fall, he finds himself entranced by the young bride. When he takes a job as a sheriff, he must bring a murderer to justice—and that trail leads him back to Katherine and the hope that he can provide her with THE PERFECT CHRISTMAS GIFT.

  EVERY KNEE SHALL BEND by Tanya Hanson

  When vagabond Alder Dale arrives at his brother's Colorado homestead for Christmas, last thing he expects to find is a beautiful widow raising kids who don’t belong to her. Suddenly, the wide-open range he loves seems cold and lonely. Walls and hearth call out to him.

  Mail-order bride Sadie Dahlstrom leaves Kansas for a new life, unprepared for widowhood. When she tends the war wound of a rugged, yet gentle, stranger, her heart swells with a warmth far different from a Christmas fireplace. Can her journey have a happy ending after all? It’s said that miracles happen on Christmas…

  A Cowboy under the Mistletoe

  Stacey Coverstone

  Livia J. Washburn

  Donna Alice Patton

  Kaye Spencer

  Gail L. Jenner

  Tanya Hanson

  A Cowboy under the Mistletoe

  Copyright© 2016 Prairie Rose Publications

  Cover Design Livia Reasoner

  Prairie Rose Publications

  www.prairierosepublications.com

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  “A Christmas Groom” copyright© 2016 by Stacey Coverstone

  “Widelooping A Christmas Cowboy” copyright© 2016 by Livia J. Washburn

  “Another Auld Lang Syne” copyright© 2016 by Donna Alice Patton

  “Silver And Gold” copyright© 2016 by Kaye Spencer

  “The Perfect Christmas Gift” copyright© 2016 by Gail L. Jenner

  “Every Knee Shall Bend” copyright© 2016 by Tanya Hanson

  Table of Contents

  A Christmas Groom by Stacey Coverstone

  Widelooping a Christmas Cowboy by Livia J. Washburn

  Another Auld Lang Syne by Donna Alice Patton

  Silver and Gold by Kaye Spencer

  The Perfect Christmas Gift by Gail L. Jenner

  Every Knee Shall Bend by Tanya Hanson

  A Christmas Groom

  Stacey Coverstone

  Her past or her present? Who will Mariah choose as her Christmas groom?

  December 20, 1864, Arizona Territory

  A mere speck amongst the timbered mountain of Ponderosa pines, Tom McCann leaned against a tree with field glasses cupping his eyes. His steady gaze was trained three hundred yards down the hill on the small fenced graveyard at the edge of town, or more precisely, on the lone visitor standing at a tombstone in the snow that had fallen the night before. Though bareheaded, she wore a cape and sturdy-looking boots below her skirts. Even from this distance, and after all this time, he would have known her anywhere.

  He lifted the faded photograph from his gray Confederate coat pocket and stared into the sweet face looking back at him. The anticipation of spending the rest of his life with the woman had gotten him through many skirmishes and dire moments. The memory of her gentle voice reminding him to come back to her had been better than any survival kit the Army could have provided.

  Now, after nearly three years, there she was, flesh and blood, so close—and yet, so far away.

  Not moving a muscle, Tom watched as Mariah Wallace’s lips moved, as if talking to someone. No one else was in the graveyard, so she must be talking to the deceased, he deduced. With a sigh, he suspected her ma or pa, or perhaps both, had passed since he’d been gone.

  Despite his hip and thigh aching from gunshot wounds received in the war, and exacerbated by the cold, Tom stood like a stone watching for fifteen long minutes. He barely breathed so as not to create any noise that would capture her attention.

  At last, she bent and placed something on the grave. Tom shifted his stance and leaned forward, silently groaning with discomfort. Covering miles of ground in all kinds of weather in worn-out, holey boots that leaked had sure enough damaged his feet. It would be a miracle if his toes weren’t frost-bit.

  Mariah drew the cape hood over her head, hiding the blonde tresses that curled at her shoulders, and turned to leave. She blew a kiss at the stone and stepped away.

  As if she suddenly felt his prying
eyes upon her, her head swiveled, and her gaze lifted. She searched the copse of trees where he stood. Tom lowered the glasses and slipped behind the pine, but not before he saw her blue eyes widen, and her mouth open and close in surprise. Too far away to be recognized, she’d seen him all the same.

  Not unexpectedly, she lifted her skirts and practically ran to the gate, closed it behind her, and dashed down the sweep of hillside toward the plain pink adobe. When he lifted the glasses again and moved them to take in the snow-dusted willow trees that screened the river close behind the house, a deluge of memories flooded his mind.

  Once the reminiscing had passed, he realized she was no longer in sight.

  With the use of the wooden cane that his best friend, Jed, had fashioned out of scrap while they were both in the Army hospital, Tom limped down the hill. When he was about to reach his destination, he slipped on a patch of ice and fell, stifling a scream as shooting pain ricocheted across his back and down his leg.

  With his eyes closed, he lay in the snow, his head spinning. Slowly, the damp seeped through the threadbare jacket. After long moments of fighting to control the pain, he took a quick inventory to assure he hadn’t broken any bones, then pushed to his sore feet and continued the short journey down. Tossing the cane over the cemetery fence first, he then hefted his slim frame over.

  Out of breath and chest heaving, he shuffled to the spot where Mariah had stood and read the name on the stone that had held her attention for so long.

  Holly Thomasina Wallace

  Precious Daughter and God’s Little Angel

  Born December 20, 1862

  Died December 25, 1862

  A sharp intake of frigid air passed between Tom’s chapped lips, whistled down his throat to spear his chest, and caused his heart to constrict. For a moment, white spots blinded his vision. Mariah was a mother?

  Seconds later when the spots disappeared, he scrubbed a hand over the rough whiskers that covered his chin and cheeks.

  Holly Thomasina. Was it possible?

  Swiftly calculating the dates in his mind, realization struck, and his heart gave a lurching thud that threatened to buckle his knees.

  Tom thought of all the war had taken from him: his health, his best friend, and now, if he were correct in his figuring—and there was no doubt in his mind that he was correct—his daughter, a baby who didn’t even carry his name.

  Memories of his and Mariah’s one night of passion played through his mind. As young sweethearts, they had planned to marry once he’d saved enough to buy a small ranch. Not able to wait, they’d given in to their passion the day before he left the Arizona Territory. It was March 20, 1862 when he set off for Chattanooga, Tennessee, whereupon he joined the 8th Texas Cavalry to fight for the Confederacy alongside Jed and other friends. Aside from believing in the cause, joining up would be a good way to earn the money he needed to make their dreams come true.

  He was twenty-one at the time; she was eighteen.

  If only he’d asked the preacher to marry them before he left! But at the time, every young man, and some not so young, was in a hurry to enlist. The war wouldn’t last long, people said. The Confederacy would defeat the Yankees and the boys would be home before they knew it. Almost three years later, the war still wasn’t over, although it was for Tom.

  “Oh, Mariah, how was I to know?”

  Gritting his teeth, he thought of the scorn she most likely faced alone as a woman unmarried and with child. He knew how cruel the townsfolk could be. Even his own Aunt Harriet, who’d raised him, was one of the most judgmental people on earth. And she called herself a God-fearing woman. What had poor Mariah gone through without him?

  Tears that had long been suppressed were at risk of erupting. But one of the casualties of witnessing death and destruction for so long was the hard shell that encased a man’s soul when he’d seen and done too much. Pushing down his emotions, Tom pursed his lips and vigorously shook his head like a gelding chomping on the bit.

  Hungry, dehydrated, and in physical pain, he lifted the small angel statue that Mariah had left on their baby’s grave. Without a second thought, he slipped it into his pants pocket.

  Two more graves lay close to the child’s. He squatted and brushed the snow away. When he read the names carved into the stones, Tom shook his head. Mariah had lost both her folks, too, which meant she was completely alone.

  Standing, his weary gaze skimmed over the valley below. He may have lost much in the War Between the States, but not his determination and spirit. His heart still yearned for the ranch he’d dreamt of and the only woman he’d ever loved.

  With the cane in one hand and his other clutching the angel inside his pocket, Tom walked through the cemetery and exited the gate.

  His voice raw and scratchy, he said, “I’m coming, Mariah. I’m home, and everything will be all right again.”

  ♥•♥•♥

  Mariah Wallace had barely removed her cape and boots when there was a knock at the door. “Just a minute,” she called.

  Rubbing her arms that were covered in gooseflesh, she glanced at the dying fire in the fireplace. After adding a couple more logs, the dancing flames crackled and popped, warming her chilled skin within moments.

  When the knock on the door sounded again, she pushed strands of flyaway hair behind her ears and smoothed her palms down her dress before answering.

  “Betsy! Why didn’t you come on in? The door was unlocked.”

  Mariah’s best friend barged inside, closed the door behind her, and stomped her feet on the entry rug to shake snow off her boots. “How was I to know? You always keep it locked, ever since…” Her voice trailed off.

  “Ever since Rita was taken by those Mexican banditos,” Mariah finished. Rita Sullivan was their childhood friend, who had been abducted from her parents’ general store a year ago at Christmas time. The evil men had murdered her father and mother, taken the money from the cash register, killed the deputy who tried to help, and stolen Rita away in broad daylight. There’d been no sign of her to this day.

  “I just came from the cemetery,” Mariah explained. “Holly was on my mind, and I guess I forgot to lock the door. Have a seat and I’ll make us a cup of tea.”

  Betsy stuffed her gloves into the pocket of her coat and hung it on a hook by the front door. As Mariah heated up the kettle, Betsy sat at the kitchen table. “How was your visit with Holly?”

  A cheerless smile parted Mariah’s lips. “I always feel close to my baby when I’m at her grave, but Christmas used to be my favorite time. Now, all I have are sad memories.”

  Aside from Holly’s passing on Christmas day when she was only five days old, and Rita being abducted during the holiday season, the last letter she ever received from her sweetheart, Tom McCann, was right before Christmas last year. His Aunt Harriet had not received word from him in over a year, either, so it was assumed by now that he was dead.

  When Mariah first told Harriet McCann, Tom’s spinster aunt, that she was carrying Tom’s baby, Harriet was so angry and humiliated, she led a crusade amongst the ladies to shun Mariah for the first months of the pregnancy. It was only after Harriet fell and slipped into a coma that things changed. When she awoke from four days of sleep and was told that Mariah had sat at her side day and night, nursing her back to health, she wept and begged forgiveness for her unchristian-like behavior.

  Mariah had forgiven her, and they had been close since. When Mariah’s parents had both died shortly after Tom left for the war, it was Harriet who was there to provide comfort and support when Holly was born with a heart defect and died soon after.

  As Tom’s next of kin, Harriet hadn’t been informed by the Army of his demise, but she’d been told by others who’d suffered losses that if a man died on the battlefield, it was virtually impossible for remains to be identified. Therefore, loved ones could wait indefinitely for news that may never come, or eventually get on with their lives. Ever a pragmatic woman, Harriet made the decision one day to mourn her los
s for an appropriate period of time and then carry on.

  Even while Harriet donned her black attire, Mariah held out hope that Tom was still alive. Perhaps he’d been injured and had no way to contact her, or his letters had been lost. But when Jed Davis’s folks received word informing them that Jed had died and there had been no mention of Tom, Mariah’s world crumbled again. Tom and Jed had served under the same command.

  Betsy soon began to drop hints. Despite the fact that Mariah was no longer chaste, several men wished to court her. Apparently, they could forgive her since neither Tom nor the baby survived as reminders of her transgressions.

  One of the would-be suitors was Logan Henry, the man who had moved to Arizona Territory in June and taken over management of the general store. At thirty years old, Henry was considered quite a catch amongst the widows and single girls of marrying age. He had made a success of the general store and had money in the bank—according to Miss Abigail Lundquist, a gossip, who also had her eye on him. Rumor was that he was kind to animals and children, held a high regard for women, and anyone with eyes could see that he rivaled any man in the looks department. An added bonus was that he apparently didn’t give a fig as to Mariah’s past.

  “Everyone makes mistakes,” he was heard to tell Reverend Carlisle one Sunday morning after church. “Let those without sin cast the first stone. Isn’t that what you preach to the good people of this town?” When the preacher assured him that was so, Logan slid a smile in Mariah’s direction.

  After that, Harriet began to remind Mariah that it wasn’t betraying Tom to live the life she’d been blessed with. Life was precious, she counseled, and didn’t Mariah know that better than anyone?

  “You’re too young and vibrant to sit at home pining for someone who may never return,” Harriet said one afternoon during tea. “He’s my nephew and I miss him, too, but I know Tom would want you to marry and have the family you’ve always wanted.”